


Our Dearest Magneto

by brilliantdreams



Category: X-Men (Movieverse)
Genre: Erik is a Sweetheart, Families of Choice, Gen, M/M, Mansion Fic, Post-X-Men: Apocalypse (2016), Protective Erik, X Mansion, dadneto
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-23
Updated: 2017-10-23
Packaged: 2019-01-21 18:21:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12463302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brilliantdreams/pseuds/brilliantdreams
Summary: The students observe and adjust to the man they all know as  'Magneto' paying regular visits to the school after Apocalypse.





	Our Dearest Magneto

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [[授权翻译]Our Dearest Magneto我们最亲爱的万磁王](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13747602) by [Shame_i_translate](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shame_i_translate/pseuds/Shame_i_translate)



Truly, the most unusual thing to come from the event that almost ended the world, was that the man who most of the students knew as ‘Magneto: mutant supremacist and dangerous radical’, had started paying regular visits to the school.

Following the Apocalypse incident, Magneto—or ‘Erik’ as some of the teachers called him, had hung around long enough to help rebuild the mansion, but he hadn’t stayed longer after that. The professor had seen him off and they’d exchanged their good lucks and farewells. But apparently that had all just been for show because Magneto had come crawling back not a month later to continue, what the students assumed, his ongoing secret tryst with Professor Xavier.

Except it wasn’t secret at all.

Whether or not it was a tryst could not be determined by just seeing them together. The nature of Professor X and Magneto’s relationship was a hotly debated topic, but continued to go unexplained by those who knew them best. But whatever it was, it wasn’t secret.

No one ever saw Magneto come (something that actually was a secret), but once he had arrived at the school, he didn’t make much of an effort to conceal his presence. Thankfully, he mostly visited during weekends, so the students didn’t have to suffer him sitting in on their classes, because while he was there, he and the professor were rarely far from each other’s sides.

They could be seen deep in conversation while they strolled the gardens, or playing chess on the porch when the weather was warm.

While Magneto was in the mansion, Professor Xavier still attended communal dinner, but always quickly retired, taking with him an extra plate and two wine glasses. Which was strange to all, because usually the professor lingered to supervise clean up and chit chat with the students about their day, or talk with his sister whose return was just as recent as Magneto’s.

But as soon as they’d all said their thanks for the meal, he was zipping off as fast as his wheels could take him. It was an interruption to their routines; it required someone else to delegate the duties, and it meant Professor Xavier was more difficult to find if you needed him. But the students loved their professor and the professor loved(?) Magneto, so they obediently did the dishes, solved their own problems, and welcomed Magneto as best they could.

They put aside the news reports and the FBI Most Wanted lists, and traded them in for Peter’s, (or ‘Quicksilver’— he’d jumped on that as soon as he’d heard code names were a thing), stories of how ‘Erik’ had turned hero at the last second and helped them save the world.

They smiled at Magneto when they came across him, and would have tried to get to know him, but Magneto was almost impossible to make small talk with. He was, as many well-meaning students quickly discovered, a social minefield.

Ask him how he knew Professor Xavier? Receive a short, brief history of their work for the CIA which was always abruptly cut short before they ever got to hear what happened in Cuba.

How did he realised he was a mutant? ‘Unpleasantly’, came the answer.

Was that really him on TV that time? A curt ‘yes’.

Did it hurt when Mystique kicked his ass on national television? Murderous glare.

And Magneto had no favourite anything, and no preferences if asked, even if you watched him choose orange juice over milk right in front of you. His general air was unapproachable, and really did scream ‘wanted terrorist and murderer’ a great deal more than ‘fetches tea without complaint’.

The only people who proved successful in drawing Magneto into conversation were the professor, with whom he spoke easily and laughed generously, and the youngest of the students, who he always received with soft eyes and a somewhat sad smile.

He was also sometimes seen speaking to Peter. But the exchanges mostly consisted of Magneto looking politely confused as to why Peter wanted to talk to him so regularly, and Peter himself looking rather star struck.

Basically, if you weren’t a seven year old or Charles Xavier, it was best to avoid Magneto.

 

That being said however, Magneto taking his weekends at the mansion was only one of the repercussions that the Apocalypse incident yielded.

More than ever, mutants were in the public spotlight. After Charles had spoken directly into the minds of everyone on the planet, it was no wonder that people were talking. People were increasingly concerned about ‘the mutant problem’. And it was when the children began to realise this, that they became almost _glad_ that their world’s biggest supervillain was coming by every so often to spend a little time with their headmaster.

They were certainly glad for him when the police came to the door and Magneto just happened to be walking by in time to open it. Even the decorative tray of tea he had been holding was not enough to distract from the sour aura of a man interrupted rolling off him as he stood, all tall and broad, without so much as a ‘how may I help you?’ The officers promptly left.

They were glad for him when parents began arriving on the door step too. Apparently not everyone’s parents actually knew about their children’s mutations or, indeed, the school’s true nature. Some students had come of their own accord, others had sidestepped the mutant aspect entirely and convinced their families it was a normal boarding school. At the homes of those personally recruited, Charles, in an unusual display of deception, had not encouraged much elaboration when he’d sensed hostility. He’d simply charmed the parents with talk of their child’s ‘uniqueness’ (and what parent didn’t want to think their child was unique?!) and the very reasonable tuition prices of his school for ‘gifted youngsters’.

But following the Apocalypse event, the government had seen fit to release some information on that odd voice in everyone’s heads, and the name ‘Xavier’ had not gone unnoticed.

The students were glad for Magneto when the professor’s apologetic open palms and amicable nature hadn’t been enough to get distraught parents out of the foyer and into a nearby office, or to stop them jabbing Charles in the chest or threatening him—something that _none_ of the students had liked, and that Magneto had seemed to like even less. And they were glad for the raised voice they heard when they eavesdropped, ruthlessly telling anyone who would listen that every mutant child was a blessing. Magneto knew many of the students by name and seemed to have a raging speech prepared about the impressiveness and value of every single one.

They started calling him ‘Erik’.                                     

 

A year later, though no one formally acknowledged it, Erik had definitely moved in. He was still sometimes gone for long stretches of time, but most nights, he accompanied the professor (who it was now painfully obvious he was totally besotted with) to dinner. He attended whole school assemblies with the rest of the household, and Professor Xavier bought him a coffee cup that he kept in the kitchen cupboard and used every morning.

He’d started to let himself be more open to the children too, and they realised that they really didn’t mind having him around. The easy talk and laughter that had once been reserved for only Professor X, made its way into early morning exchanges when Erik could be found getting ready to run or meditate. He became warm enough that you could find him in what was now his study if you needed a zip unsticking or your glasses unbent. He wasn’t the shoulder to cry on and he didn’t like being pestered too much, but he was rather good at math and often a lot more straight forward in his explanation than many of the other teachers.

The professor was yet to convince him into teaching the language programme he so desperately wanted to add to the curriculum, but time could still tell, and Erik contributed to school life in other ways.

He came with Charles and the ‘SUPERmarket team’ to help with the grocery shopping, and proved himself a valuable asset by, to the children’s endless glee, lifting other cars clear off the ground if their car was ever boxed in, or if anyone was unfortunate enough to make the mistake of wrongly parking in a disability space.

Erik was well respected among the students for his protectiveness of their headmaster, and his excessive willingness to use his mutation and intimidating nature for things he could absolutely accomplish via other means; much to the chagrin of Professor X who could sometimes be heard muttering ‘so bloody dramatic’ under his breath. But dramatic Erik was everyone’s favourite Erik. He had a knack for drawing amusing discomposure out of the professor, and hearing ‘for God’s sake, Erik!!’ was usually a cause of laughter with the students than one of worry.

However, Erik’s award winning performance, which ultimately won everyone over, came towards the end of the school year when the students were rewarded for their studies with a fun day to a theme park. Erik and Charles decided on chaperoning class by class on separate days all week. And at the ticket gate with the first group, the momentous moment. Erik had opened his mouth to ask:

“We’ve got two adults, but our family has a few more than three children, what would you suggest?”

As if they weren’t clearly a school class.

As if the ‘children’-- a widely mixed bunch, appeared anything like either milky white Charles or Erik who sometimes still sounded quite German.

As if the ‘group pass’ wasn’t the obvious choice for their party.

Erik had looked up at the ticketing options and immediately applied ‘family’ to those he was with, and it had stopped everyone’s hearts.

It was the first time anyone had ever heard the word out of his mouth, and Professor X, who almost always referred to the students as ‘family’, looked like he might cry as he flushed a pleased pink.

While the attendant explained to Erik that the group pass would probably serve them better, everyone else was staring at each other in surprised delight. The professor quickly shushed them telepathically _—‘Don’t scare him. He didn’t even notice.’_ They cleared their faces before Erik turned back with the tickets.

 

No one ever said anything to Erik about it, but word quickly spread.

Erik was officially part of the family.

The moony-eyed looks in the halls encouraged nothing but a perplexed, grumpier than usual expression from Erik, but no one minded, they were used to it.

They’d come to learn a thing or two about the one the media called ‘Magneto’.

Gruff, blunt, and sometimes a bit mean spirited when entertaining his own dark sense of humour. But also ridiculously dramatic, fiercely protective, and kind (in his own way) to those he loved.

_That’s our Erik_ , they thought whenever Erik floated the salt instead of passing it.

_That’s our Erik_ , when Kitty fell out of a tree and Erik conjured a stretcher from the literal dirt.

Excitedly, _THAT’S OUR ERIK!_ when they overheard him finally asking Professor Xavier if he’d like to go to dinner; just them two.

_That’s our Erik_ , when he started arguments at the dinner table, or laughed at stupid jokes. And _that’s our Erik_ when he at last caved to the professor’s ceaseless nagging about him teaching languages.

_Yup, that's our Erik._

 

All was well at Xavier’s Institute for Gifted Youngsters.

 

 


End file.
